Trails
by littlestrangesoul
Summary: She thinks she finally understands what this is. This is his version of a love letter - footprints and a handful of berries. Beth/Daryl M potential later.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Alright, I think I'm about to embark on my first multi-chapter story. I just love the idea of Beth being the one to hunt Daryl down - she's tough, he's taught her how, and I am already looking forward to writing his shock. Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated!

* * *

**Trails**

Beth Greene was thankful for Daryl Dixon for a lot of things. He kept her safe, he kept her sane, and he kept her heart fluttering when the world around her seemed intent on making it stop. But right now, at this current moment, she was sending up a silent prayer of thanks for Daryl Dixon's ability to hunt and inability to see her weak.

She had stumbled into the sunlight for the first time in a week, bloody and crying in relief and revulsion. Her hands were shaking, a knife in one and a gun in the other. If the Beth Greene of old could see her now, she would have died of shame. Beth Greene, murderer and thief. She could've laughed if she wasn't feeling so horrified. Daryl had been convinced of her goodness, and she had effectively destroyed that today.

_Daryl._ The thought of him, his blue eyes and his crooked smile, makes her wipe her face on her sleeve and begin walking. Her legs are shaky, her eyes still blurry from tears. She pictures him walking behind her, silent as a shadow, making sure she is safe. The thought makes her straighten her back and quicken her pace, as though he's critiquing her movements. He didn't teach her about tracking for nothing. He didn't teach her about surviving for nothing. Beth Greene wasn't still alive for nothing.

She's going to find him.

* * *

It's about a day before she finds the first one. Her time has been spent mostly in her own mind, replaying both the last moments of her captors and the last moments she had with Daryl. She thinks it's a strange contrast to put the memories together – the way their eyes dulled and his eyes lit up. Joy and pain look strange together, but she holds both memories close as she walks. Reminders of what she's done and why she can't let what she's done destroy her.

She's seen plenty of tracks on her walk. She hums idly as she moves the brush, then breathes out a sharp noise of frustration when the dragging tracks obviously spell out walker. She doesn't know exactly what she's looking for, but she's followed Daryl around enough times to know what his tracks resemble. She keeps moving, lightly creating her own path through the forest. She may be "_heavier than she looks_", but damn it if Beth Greene hasn't learned to be light on her feet.

It's then that she sees it – a carefully stomped out track just ahead. Probably no more than a few days old, definitely human. Surrounding it are other tracks, lighter in their footing but human as well. A group then. Beth will always believe in the good in people, but she wasn't stupid. You don't just go following any group into the woods. Her eyes scan the ground for any other indicators and she can't help but gasp at what she finds. A berry on the ground and a few feet away another one. And another.

"_They'll be hungry when we find them."_ She can hear herself saying in her head, picking berries off a nearby tree with an optimism that didn't seem to sit too well with her silent companion. It feels like a lifetime ago, and she wipes her eyes quickly. She looks at the trail again, sizing up the heavy footfalls. She never would have considered them to be his – he knows better than to be so careless with his tracks. But here they are: a replica of the footprints she'd been shadowing for weeks. She can picture him deliberately making these marks, dropping her berries along the way. She feels a laugh bubble up at the thought of his pride – his stealth – completely going to waste at her expense.

He was out there, a few days ahead, leaving a trail of hope in his wake. Beth straightens, renewed purpose driving her steps.

She's going to find him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** Thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story so far! This chapter is entirely Beth centric, as we couldn't really expect her to run into Daryl right off the bat. I wanted to really focus on her character development, specifically the recent changes the show has made. When we first met Beth, I don't think anybody knew what to make of her. Her strengths- her optimism, her goodness - were seen as weaknesses by so many viewers and obviously members of the group themselves. I love that the show is finally shedding light on those things as positive attributes. Beth's not just surviving, she's truly living and that's why she is an amazing character. I wanted to touch on her reconciling those strengths with what she's done within this story.

* * *

Beth Greene is walking.

The trail's still there, winding through the forest. She passes a cabin on the third day and without hesitation goes inside. She doesn't know when it happened, but she's not afraid anymore. Maybe because she feels he's been here, and wouldn't leave something to hurt her. Or maybe she now knows what it's like to kill the living. Their eyes could see and they were so much faster than the dead and yet she had _killed _them. She had been smarter and she had been faster. Beth Greene had watched the life drain from their faces and she had felt the sickest of feelings – pleasure. Relief. She now understood what everyone had talked about in such muted tones. _It changes you_.

She wondered if the change was permanent. Or if it would only last as long as their blood remained on her skin.

That was the only real fear Beth had left – leaving the trail. She couldn't find any running water, so the blood was permanent for the time being. She wasn't fast enough to hunt with her knife, and she couldn't risk shooting her gun. So she gobbled the berries eagerly until her mouth is stained as red as her hands. The cabin isn't too far away, but she still looks out the window every few minutes, afraid that her one tie to salvation has disappeared. As she walks through the cabin cautiously, clearing every room as she has been taught, she catches sight of herself in an old mirror.

She used to be the colors of moonlight. Silvery blonde hair, grayish blue eyes, and so so pale. The girl before her was a red and purple mess. She tries a smile and even her teeth are stained the color of blood, the color of death. She thinks if Daryl walked in right now he would kill her without a second thought. As she tilts her head to the side, catching sight of yet another bruise, she thinks that she would do the same.

After locking down the cabin to the best of her abilities, she sets about looking for signs. There are places on the floor where the dust has been cleared in small patches – people sitting, perhaps. The bed is unmade, not too dusty, giving her hope that it's been used recently. There are footprints everywhere, but they overlap so much that she can't see Daryl's from the rest of them. She traces one anyway, as though trying to feel his warmth from the imprint.

She's Beth Greene, forever the optimist regardless of circumstance, and so she can't help but check the kitchen for food. She knows it's unlikely, seeing as a group just came through, but those berries have grown a fierce hope in her stomach. Daryl Dixon does not disappoint her. Tucked back in a corner cabinet, so high she almost didn't see it, is a water bottle and can of beans.

She clutches them to her chest, not trusting her shaking hands to hold these precious items all on their own. She feels, not for the first time, overcome with gratitude for this man. The tears she has not allowed herself to cry since setting off are suddenly unstoppable, sliding down her face and clearing away the grime of the past week. Beth sets down her gift and clutches the counter top with both bloody hands. She used to cry all the time. She had been so terrified of living that she had almost quit, giving up on the life so graciously handed to her. And then she had swung the pendulum, refusing to grieve over a kind man, pushing herself to be everyone's caretaker. But now she was here and the tears were falling and she doesn't know whether to stop or let them go. She doesn't know what being strong in this world means. What counted for more – the blood on her hands or the tears of gratitude on her face?

Beth thinks about Daryl Dixon, as she so often does in times of struggle. She had been doing it subconsciously for as long as she'd known him. _What would Daryl Dixon do?_ He almost hadn't been real in her mind until the day she had wrapped her arms around him and felt that he was truly flesh and bone. He was just so strong, so invincible when it seemed that everyone was falling all around her. But she's seen more now. She's seen the damage in his soul and she's seen his cautious hope. Oh, his hope. Beth prays that she never forgets the look on his face – the last look she saw clearly.

And she thinks that man, the one who _believed_, would not fault her tears. He would understand now that it wasn't weakness to feel hope or joy or sadness. Beth wasn't Michonne and she wasn't Carol but she could survive and she could keep on _feeling._ She would cry and that would be okay because it meant that she was still Beth Greene. A strange mix of murderer and optimist. And combining the two sides of herself would be her own kind of strength.

...

As she inhales her meager meal, Beth can't help but smile. She traces the little _B _carefully carved in the lid of her gift, so delicate she's surprised his rough hands could have managed it at all. And she thinks she finally understands what this is. This is his version of a love letter – footprints and a handful of berries and a can of beans.

It's the best letter Beth has ever read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING. Really, I am so grateful and y'all are inspiring me to write that much faster. And as a treat for all of us, we get to hear from Daryl. I wanted to see where he's at mentally at this point, and to show what a change Beth has had on him. I'm itching to write their reunion - I can't wait!

As I was writing the dream sequence, I could not stop listening to **Like Real People Do by Hozier**. It pretty much inspired this entire chapter. If love could be expressed in one simple song, I think it would sound like this. It's magical.

* * *

"Hey."

"_Hey."_

"It's your fucking shift. Get _up."_

He's shaken awake by a rough hand on his shoulder, and immediately sits up, nearly punching Joe in the face. His eyes dart around wildly. He's never been one to sleep deeply – too focused on the dangers of the night to slip into dreams of better times. He's more than a little bit pissed off at himself for choosing _now_ to show this weakness.

Is his mind trying to get him killed?

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he gruffly responds, sitting up, eager to put some distance between himself and Joe. The older man appraises him as Daryl walks over to the spot with the best vantage point of the forest around them and sits down. Joe probably thinks he judged him wrong. What kind of hunter lets himself be that vulnerable surrounded by thieves and murderers?

"Interesting dreams you been havin'?" It's a simple question, but Daryl can feel the hairs on his neck standing up. It's not a question of concern; it's a question of calculation. Joe's a smart man and a cruel one – the most dangerous of combinations. He's been searching Daryl with his cold eyes since they picked him up about a week ago, eager to find what weakness led to him sitting in the middle of a crossroad. Daryl had managed to hide his pain and his plan quite well, but his nights were betraying him.

"It's nothin' – just blood and walkers."

Joe laughs under his breath, but his eyes remain entirely without mirth. "Man, we got enough of that in the waking hours. All you need to think about for sweet dreamin' is a pretty little thing. You ever have one of those?"

Daryl feels himself stiffen and tries his best to relax. Joe was goading him, trying to get a reaction. He knew what manipulation felt like – his father hadn't just been an expert at physical abuse. And, if he were being honest, his bodily response was irrational. He had never really _had_ a pretty little thing. She had never been his.

He doesn't trust his own voice and so his silence does all the talking. He fears that it's saying the wrong things. Joe closes his eyes with a small smirk on his face. Daryl watches the other man carefully and it doesn't take long for his mouth to go slack and his breathing to even. Joe wasn't the sort of man who stayed up thinking on his life – he had long ago made peace with his own ugly soul.

After a few minutes have passed, Daryl lets out the shaking breath that's been clawing its way up his throat since he woke. He can't help but put his head in his hands, pressing his palms to his eyes. It's not enough to think of her when he's awake, but now she was infiltrating his dreams too. And his body welcomed it. He wanted to stay in those dreams for as long as he possibly could. Beth Greene wasn't even here, and he was still sure she would be the death of him.

...

She's always in a white sundress. Normally she's at her farm, walking through the tall grass of the fields she used to ride that insufferable horse around in. Sometimes she's at the prison, tracing her fingers along the chain length fence, deftly dodging the walkers' grasping hands. Her hair is down, but he can see the little braids she's so fond of winding through the tangles. Sometimes, when the breeze is right, her blonde waves move enough for him to get a glimpse of her slender neck.

He's always following. She seems to be walking slowly, taking her time. He feels out of breath, as though he's been chasing her for miles. But he never gets close enough. Sometimes she turns, smiling at him with her eyes crinkled like she's looking into the sun. And every time his heart slams into his chest as though his pace just isn't fast enough for it.

She never says a word and neither does he. He thinks on this after he wakes and he always concludes that besides her beauty and his thumping heart, this was the most accurate part of his dreams. They really didn't say much to each other. They never had to. She says all he needs to hear with her smiles and trailing hands and in every dream he always makes the same translation –

_I love you._

And then, just as he realizes it, just as he reaches her, just as he can finally do something about the roaring in his ears whenever he looks at her, he wakes up. It happens at the same time every night. And every guard duty he sits, cursing himself bitterly in his mind. Even in his dreams, he's never quick enough to _do _something.

She still gets away from him in the end.

...

Daryl Dixon watches the moonlight filter through the trees, ears alert to every sigh of the wind and creak of the tree branches. After these dreams of his, he can't help but equate every sound to her somehow. He sees flashes of pale skin around every tree trunk, hears the wind like it's her sigh on the back of his neck as she holds him close. The old Daryl Dixon would say Beth Greene was haunting him, but now he thinks of it differently. The old Daryl Dixon would dream of his worst nightmare. Beth Greene – bloody, dead, sinking her teeth into him. But instead he dreams of her beautiful and whole and wonderfully _alive_.

He doesn't know if this is what love or hope does to a man, but he's grateful for it. It's why he can handle staring into the faces of the men around him, unable to escape them without an arrow in his brain. It's why he's got a pocketful of berries and shoes that are caked with the miles he's walked.

He doesn't doubt Beth Greene for one second.

God damn it, she's going to find him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **AHHHH I'M FINALLY BACK! School and people have both been crazy in the last week, but inspiration has struck and I promise it won't be as long of a wait before the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading, love you guys! Slight variation from the current plot this week, and I expect this will be completely AU as of tonight's episode. In my version, the Claimers haven't made it to the building/seen the Terminus sign yet. They are still in the woods.

Also - sorry in advance for a cliffhanger. I still like y'all, hope you still like me after this.

* * *

He can see the sun clearing a path through the tree line as he walks. He sighs tiredly, and Joe wordlessly hands him a flask, a flash of mirth on his lined face.

"Bottoms up, kid. Big day today."

Daryl takes a swig, Joe's post-apocalyptic concoction burning its way down his throat. What counts as a big day to this empty of a man?

...

He's killed people. Living, dead - most of it blurs enough in his memory to maintain a hold on his sanity. None of the living had been good people; none of the dead had even been people. He understood the gravity of what administering death does to a man, but that wasn't what drove Daryl mad with guilt. He was always guilty not for the things he did with his own hands, but what he sat by and witnessed.

First, it had been Merle. A lifetime of addiction and recklessness and Daryl could do nothing but aid him on his quest to destroy every good thing he had. That guilt would forever bite at him as it had since he was a child. He had followed his brother until the trail had finally run cold, silently observing a path that he knew could only lead one direction.

Then, it was Hershel. The opposite of Merle. A good man, a moral man. The kind of man who raised a woman like Beth Greene. He had represented to Daryl a path not taken for his own father – recovering from his addictions, learning from them, bettering others through his own sacrifices and struggles. But in the end, Daryl could do nothing but stand helplessly and watch Hershel Greene meet the worst kind of fate.

This time, it was a man Daryl couldn't give a fuck about. Len was an asshole. He knew a lot of those in the old world and he didn't have the patience for them in the new one. And he certainly didn't have the patience for assholes that live by a code that he just doesn't get anymore. He had been around good people for too long – people who believed in kindness, in family. Their interactions hadn't been just about surviving. They had been about living. And that made them better than Len by a landslide in Daryl's mind.

But still the fact remained – Daryl felt guilty standing by and watching a man die in such a brutal fashion. It was one thing to kill out of necessity. But this – the beating, the screaming - was entirely different and weighed heavily on his mind. He had had no illusions about Joe and the other men previously, but seeing Len's broken body on the forest floor had confirmed his worst fears.

He knew that if he stayed he would die with this group. Because of this group. The men were starting to wonder where some of the food was going. Wondering why his pockets were filled with berries he never eats. Questioning why he just couldn't bring himself to join in on the talk of old, meaningless conquests. None of it was technically breaking the "rules".

But Daryl was afraid.

...

"What do you mean?" He asks, digging in his jacket pocket for a cigarette. He lights it, inhaling deeply and casting an appraising eye at Joe, who's looking ahead now at his men.

"Well, we had a bit of a run in right before we ran into you – or saved your ass, however you want to say it. A guy of ours, Lou, died because of some asshole. We had found a house and were setting up camp when suddenly we come to find that somebody has killed our man and left him to turn." Joe turns to look at him, simmering rage displayed in a wide grin.

"Now to me, that just doesn't sit right. So we've been lookin'. Scoutin'. Hell, it's the end of the world. What else do we have to do but show this fucker some justice?"

"And you found the trail today?" Daryl's thinking quickly, mind running over what he knows about these men. He had seen them at what he thought was their most dangerous, but now they had a direction and a purpose. A chance to funnel the rage that has been fueling them through the world. And that was something he had no desire to witness.

"Hell yes we did," Joe laughs, and it sounds more genuine than anything Daryl's heard from the old man. "And we are goin' to tear them apart."

"Them? There are others?" He's listening more intently now, yet he can still hear the remnants of a conversation screamed so long ago.

"_Everyone we know is dead."_

"_You don't know that!"_

"Yeah, we think he's in a small group. Easy enough for us to take out – hell, one of them's a woman. Found a shirt, still wet from the wash. Maybe if she's pretty enough she'll live."

Daryl can't focus on the ugliness of the words. His mind is too busy creating pictures to match – pictures of the man, the woman.

"And the others?"

"Just one other. Younger, maybe a kid, judging by the tracks."

He can feel the image forming in his head. The whole prison group had been a family, but there were two little units that he had been aware of. The Greene's - Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, and Beth – scattered to the wind when Hershel had fallen. But there was another – less conventional, but just as strong – that he had not dared to hope for.

He can picture Rick, both parts capable and fearful. Michonne, ferocious and kind. Carl, young and brave, a sheriff's hat perched precariously on his head.

The joy is bubbling in his throat before he can contain himself. If there's anything Beth had taught him in their time together it was to believe. And he was believing now. They were alive. He can picture her face clearly if she heard the news – her blue eyes glowing, lips parting in a wide smile and her small hands grabbing onto his arm in disbelief. It's a perfect image, and his own mouth lifts in response.

...

He realizes about a second too late his mistake. That little quirk of a smile was really all it took. As Daryl feels the pressure of the gun pointed at the side of his head, he realizes what this whole conversation was. Another test. One he had failed.

"So," Joe says conversationally. "You know these people?" His casual tone makes Daryl cringe. "I figured as much. Just an idea. You seemed sad, like you were looking for people. Fucking pathetic, you were. And look at you, smilin' like I've made your day. Guess you found 'em."

Daryl is quickly assessing the situation. The other men were far ahead, obviously in on the confrontation he should have seen coming. His crossbow is on his back, too far to reach without getting his head blown off. He could go for his knife, but any quick movement and he was done for. The gun was too close and Joe was too fast, too good at killing.

Joe's quiet, and Daryl can hear his controlled breathing. Joe was all about talking, all about explaining, all about worming his way into your brain with a few well placed words. But he was silent now. Because there was nothing left to explain. No use talking to a dead man.

...

He's always been scared of dying - not because of the act itself - but because of that age old theory. _Your life flashes before your eyes._ He doesn't want to relive the painful memories of his past, doesn't want his father's face to be the last one he sees. But it's different than he thought it would be. It seems the last place his mind wants to go before the end is his favorite.

All he can see is her face, soft smile and confused eyes widening at a sudden realization.

Her mouth forms her last easy, happy word to him just as a gunshot fills the air.

"_Oh."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's** **Note:** FINALLY. Okay, so to me Daryl and Beth have always been so simple together. It was never going to be a dramatic gesture. This whole story has been based on small, simple love. I hope you guys like their little reunion.

I'm not sure if there's more to tell after this point in the story. Let me know if you want this to continue! I love these characters and I am so glad that y'all have loved this story so much! THANK YOU AND PLEASE REVIEW. It means so much to me!

* * *

All he can see is her face, soft smile and confused eyes widening at a sudden realization.

Her mouth forms her last easy, happy words to him just as a gunshot fills the air.

"_Oh."_

* * *

It happens in an instant.

The gunshot is loud, but not as close as he was expecting – and how could his ears still be ringing if he's dead?

Daryl whirls around, eyes wide, immediately falling on Joe. Blood is pouring out of a wound in the side of his head, staining the ground around him crimson. Thinking quickly, Daryl grabs for his crossbow, pointing it blindly into the forest in the direction of the shot.

There was something about anticipating death that had made all his senses heightened. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, hear the wind moving through the trees. The only emotion he could really feel was surprised – that gunshot had been at relatively close range, and he could hear nothing indicating another person. Whoever it was, they were as quiet as him.

He couldn't stay here. The men had obviously been expecting a gunshot, but when Joe didn't appear they would know that something had gone wrong. And come looking for him. He felt strange, eyes straining to see what he felt he was missing. Someone had been here – someone had saved him. After a tense minute, he lets out a shaky breath and lowers his weapon. He has to move on.

As Daryl bends to pick up his pack, he hears it. Footfalls, so quiet that anyone but a hunter would have ignored them. He immediately straightens up, crossbow once again at the ready. And it's then that he sees her.

Looking back, Daryl would swear that the forest parted for her. Or maybe he just couldn't see anything else. The sunlight filtering through the trees illuminated her and that was the moment that he knew he had lost his mind. Almost certain death does that to a person, right?

He lowers his weapon, unable to look away from her face. She's walking slowly, like she always does in his dreams. Her big blue eyes are wary and that throws him – she's always smiling in his mind. It's then that he notices the rest of her. Beth is covered in blood and bruises of all colors. Her jeans are cut up in some places, her shirt hanging off of her slim frame. His heart is thundering – like it always is when he looks at her – but it feels different. It's not entirely love. There's guilt and fear and intense relief running through his blood. And that's when he notices the most important thing: for the first time, she isn't walking away.

She's standing right in front of him.

And Daryl is the one saying the word that changed everything for them.

"Oh."

...

Beth Greene doesn't understand life sometimes. She used to think she had a grip – some sense of control of all her feelings and thoughts. But now she doesn't understand it at all. She has lost her father and her home and maybe her sister. The rules of the universe and this world all seemed to say that she would lose more. That she would lose everything. But somehow, as he always had, Daryl Dixon seemed to laugh in the face of the raging universe.

And now she was too. For one shining moment, she had _beaten_ this world.

Here was her reward. Daryl Dixon – standing right in front of her. Staring at her like she knew he would. She's figured him out. She can see the love and the guilt and the confusion swirling behind his eyes and she wonders – not for the first time – how on earth these fragile bodies can perish _so_ easily but hold so much. And this man held more in than anyone she'd ever known. For a while, she had too. But what was the _point_? So many other things could kill them. Sickness, walkers, assholes like the one she just murdered. She was done holding things in. And apparently so was he.

Beth has learned so much from Daryl Dixon, so it doesn't really surprise her that he's learned from her too. That he reaches out first. That quite suddenly he's dropping his things and lunging at her, hands tangling in her hair. That she can feel the wetness of his tears on the crook of her neck as he embraces her.

And because she's braver than she'd ever given herself credit for, Beth grabs him right back. Digs her nails into the leather of his jacket and hangs on for dear life. Presses her mouth to the pulse point on his neck where she can feels his heart hammering away.

They stand like this for what feels like forever and it gives Beth time to flit through the rules of the universe one last time. By all accounts, nothing big ever happens in the woods of Georgia. The world had always moved right by this place – unchanging, simple. But once again, the universe was wrong. Something bigger than anything Beth had ever cared about was happening right here. Starting right here.

...

Beth and Daryl had always had an unspoken connection. Even more so in this moment. She said so much with her lips on his neck and he was positively shouting with his hands winding through her tangles. But the thought of breaking rules has Beth standing on tip toe and whispering in his ear.

"Hi."

It's simple. A word of greeting. But it feels heavy to them both. Because it's a word you never say at the end. It's always a beginning.

And Daryl Dixon laughs and Beth Greene feels it reverberate through her chest. He pulls away just slightly, fingers still reverently tugging on her braids, and smiles at her.

"Hi."


End file.
